


Better In Gold

by sabinelagrande



Series: Horns [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathing, Dom Iron Bull, Dom/sub, Headspace, M/M, Primping, Sub Dorian Pavus, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian prepares for the night to come.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better In Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to bendingwind for her assistance! <3
> 
> This story takes place several hours before [Sitting Pretty](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5718229), but they can be read in either order.

The text message alert almost wakes Dorian up. The only reason it's 'almost' is that Dorian was not technically asleep; he's at his desk in the library, staring at the same monograph he's been staring at all afternoon, which is full of useful information and utterly, inescapably dull. He started nodding off and catching himself an hour ago, and the situation has not improved since.

He's in the middle of one of these micronaps when his phone vibrates, startling him. He stretches, suppressing a yawn, and picks it up. The text, unsurprisingly, is from Bull:

_Club tonight?_

Dorian thinks about it; he's tired of work, surely, but he's not too tired to go out. _I could be persuaded,_ he offers.

 _Wear something nice,_ Bull replies, and a thrill goes through him.

 _Don't I always?_ Dorian teases.

 _You know what I mean, pretty boy,_ is Bull's response, and Dorian very much does.

Dorian puts down his phone and decisively shuts the monograph. It's four o'clock on a Friday, and he has plans. He's leaving.

Traffic is neither good nor bad, and Dorian makes it home without much frustration. Bull won't be home for a good while, leaving Dorian with plenty of time to prepare himself for the night to come.

A bath first. One of Dorian's demands, when they moved in together, was a tub big enough to have a good soak in, and what he received does not disappoint. He lets it fill as he undresses, pouring a good amount of bath salts in before stepping in himself. The scent of eucalyptus rises from the water. Bull picked it out, something relaxing and soothing that Dorian never would have chosen himself. That's a large part of the appeal of it, something removed from the everyday, reserved for times like this one.

Dorian turns off the faucet, sinking down into the bathtub. The tension of the day melts out of him; he might be tempted to nod off, but he has other things on his mind. Well, just the one thing, really- the more he sits here, the warm water calming him and the eucalyptus filling up his senses, the more he thinks about Bull, what he's going to do for Bull, how pleased Bull will be when he sees how Dorian looks. He's already getting to that delicious headspace where nothing is as satisfying as being Bull's, a pretty bauble for Bull to wear on his arm, so everyone can see just how good Dorian really is.

He lets himself luxuriate a little more before scrubbing himself clean and washing his hair. Finally he steps out of the tub, draining it as he wraps himself up in a towel. He dries himself off before applying lotion, the scent a match for the bath salts, more of that transporting eucalyptus. The bathroom is still warm, so he doesn't bother getting dressed yet. It can wait.

He settles himself in front of the mirror; after his bath, his mustache is drooping quite pitifully, so he fixes it first, twisting the ends just so. Next, he pulls out his makeup kit, considering his face in the mirror while he contemplates his plan of attack. Bull is not picky about Dorian's makeup- or about any of it, really, just appreciates a sincere effort to please- and Dorian is feeling gold today. For his eyes, a vibrant gold lid with heavy black liner; for his cheeks, a light dusting of gold powder. 

Unfortunately he doesn't have any gold lipstick, though he's not sure he could truly pull that one off even if he did, so it's a slightly shimmery color that's a shade or two darker than his natural. He doesn't wear lipstick often, and this particular kind transfers easily; if he's lucky, he'll leave it streaked wantonly across some sensitive part of Bull's anatomy. He always gets such a thrill from that, marking Bull as his, enough that he's fairly sure Bull is onto him. He knows Bull's not the type to mind--Bull doesn't make it a secret how much he wants Dorian. Even if he knew Dorian's game, he'd wear it like a badge of honor.

His hair is next, styled quickly with practiced movements. All that remains is clothing and jewelry; Dorian goes for the clothing first, rummaging in his closet for something appropriately inappropriate. Black pants and extremely brief underwear seem like the order of the day, paired with a gold belt and gold sandals.

While he's in the closet, he picks up his jewelry box. Gold bracelets are a must, including the snake that goes around his upper arm. A softly jingling anklet will not go amiss, and he replaces his nose stud with a chain that runs between it and his ear. For the last piece of the puzzle, he takes the barbells out of his nipples and replaces them with gold ones, joined by another chain. 

It's possible Dorian owns a lot of gold things, but in fairness, it is one of his best colors. Why deprive the world?

Dorian, considering himself in the mirror, is more than satisfied with the effect; to be blunt, he looks fucking stunning. He'll have to take off some of the jewelry if they play, but it will be worth it for how he'll look next to Bull, a glorious confection for his dom- and Dorian, too, if he's honest- to flaunt.

The one thing he leaves bare is his neck; Bull will take care of that later, will grant Dorian his collar, and Maker, Dorian craves it. All of this has been an extended session of foreplay, putting him very solidly in the space he wants to be in.

Fully prepared, Dorian leaves the bathroom, walking out through their bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. Bull is already in the kitchen, unpacking take-out containers from a paper bag, and Dorian's body thrums at the sight of him, even engaged in such a mundane activity. All this has been for him, and Dorian can't wait to show off.

"I didn't hear you come in, amatus," Dorian says, and Bull looks up, grinning widely when he sees Dorian.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," Bull says, looking him up and down with great appreciation. He makes a circling motion with one finger. "C'mon, give me a little twirl. I want to see the whole package." 

Dorian would normally roll his eyes at a request like that, but not today, not when he so sincerely wants Bull's approval. He turns with a flourish, giving Bull a good look at him.

Bull hums in appreciation. "You look good enough to eat, kadan."

Dorian lifts an eyebrow, giving him a sly look. "Are you offering?"

"Play your cards right," Bull says, with a dirty grin. He waves a hand at the boxes on the counter. "I picked up dinner." Dorian hesitates for a moment; he doesn't want to ask outright for his collar, though it won't be the first time. Bull gives him a considering look, and Dorian knows Bull has beaten him to the punch. 

"Go get it," Bull tells him. "Then we'll eat."

Dorian scurries off, unembarrassed by his own eagerness- there's not a place for that here. He retrieves his collar from its usual spot, returning it to Bull and bowing his head. Bull takes it, wrapping it around Dorian's throat and buckling it securely. Dorian's hand comes up almost of its own accord, his fingers tracing the line of the collar.

Perfect.

"Damn," Bull says, when Dorian lifts his head. "I'm a lucky bastard."

Dorian puts his arms around Bull's waist. "The feeling is mutual, amatus."

Bull grins widely, bending down to kiss him. When he pulls away, there's a hint of Dorian's lipstick on his lips.

Dorian's not going to tell him. He'll figure it out.


End file.
